


Festoon

by notjustmom



Series: Words, Words, Words [74]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, a bit of lisp not important to the plot, present for Molly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 19:57:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5511017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>festoon: verb: feˈsto͞on: adorn (a place) with ribbons, garlands, or other decorations.</p>
<p>also a noun: a chain or garland of flowers, leaves, or ribbons, hung in a curve as a decoration</p>
<p>mid 17th century: from French feston, from Italian festone ‘festal ornament,’ from festum ‘feast.’</p>
<p>a heartfelt thank you to angelfiregirl80, who made my day :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Festoon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angelfiregirl80](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelfiregirl80/gifts).



"Shhhhhhh!" John whispered as loudly as he dared, then wondered why he was whispering, the only people around were dead and they couldn't disturb them.

"Why are you whhhhitttthhhhpering?" Sherlock muttered back loudly, his deep voice seemed to bounce off the morgue walls.

"We did just break in here," John sighed, rolling his eyes, again. It had been his idea, but now that they were ready to festoon Molly's workplace with garlands and lights and poinsettia, he was feeling a bit off.

"We are doing this to cheer her up, right, because she jutttht broke up with...."

"Tom."

"Right. I don't know why she and Graham-"

"Greg?"

"Right. I don't know why they don't-"

"Shhh-let's just do this and go home, yeah?"

They dumped their supplies on one of the metal tables and began their work. They had to plot out how to decorate the morgue without making it harder for Molly to do her job, and they wanted it to look, well, festive.

First they hung the garlands, taping them to the edge of the lab table with green duct tape so it blended in nicely, then added the coloured fairy lights, John had wanted white, it was more elegant, but Sherlock shook his head, "we are supposed to be cheering her up, right?" Naturally, John gave in and he had to admit the morgue was leaning toward the merrier side, as the multicoloured lights sparkled against the fake pine needles (couldn't have real garlands, they were twice the cost and Molly was allergic, and the needles may interfere with results, fake garland was easier to manipulate....)

(Alright, Martha Stewart, pipe down)

Sherlock paused, brushing a sweaty curl from his eyes and stepped back to admire their handiwork. "Not bad, not bad at all! Molly will like it, I think?" Sherlock was still apologizing for that incident, during the Magnussen case, though Molly had forgiven him, he still felt bad for letting her down.

"She'll adore it, love, now, where do the poinsettia go?"

"'Hmmm...one on her desk, and the two little ones on either end of the wet lab space?"

"Perfect!"

"One more thing, Sherlock."

"What? What did I forget?"

"This." John pulled out a tiny sprig of mistletoe and hung it above his husband's head.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but grabbed John's face lightly and gently reminded John why he had married the elegant, infuriating, but glorious human being that stood before him.

"Home, now."

"Yetth, John."

 

The next morning, at 5AM, Molly yawned as she unlocked the morgue doors and walked in to find the lab ablaze in every color of the rainbow, and poinsettia, and fake garlands, "they remembered," she smiled to herself. She drew in her breath and sent a text to Sherlock:

"S- thank you and John so much, it is lovely, shall I bring that kidney over this morning or are you two lovebirds sleeping in?"

"He'll be in around 2 this afternoon, Molls. So glad you like it."

"You guys are the best, go back to whatever-"

"Will do."

 

John turned off Sherlock's phone and whispered to the snoring figure beneath him, "Mission accomplished, love." And he drifted off back to sleep, surrounded by the rhythmic rumblings of his detective's strong heart.


End file.
